And The Two Shall Eat
by selah
Summary: Replica. Like you've never heard it before . . . please r/r. i beg of you.
1. Part 1

:The Author turns on her brand spanking-new 'Mighty' computer

:The Author turns on her brand spanking-new 'Mighty' computer. It was a gift from a pair of rich relatives from out of town. At the time, the Author's parents thought the computer was too much for their daughter. For this computer had everything you would want in a computer. Including the funky tool bars and buttons. Then the author discovers Facfiction and decides to give a go at it. Despite the fact that her stories are plotless, detailess and, when read as a whole, just plain don't make sense, she takes up the pen. I mean, the mouse:

The replica . . . story thing

Amy stared at a point far away. Her science class felt like it was floating right next to the sun. Stabs of light shone through a slit in a dense blind covering the windows. They were watching a filmstrip on radiation half-life, which seemed to be completely incomprehensible to every one else. To her it was a cinch. But that didn't make it interesting. So she just sat there and daydreamed. Daydreamed about what would happen when she got home. Of how she would . . . would . . . um, er . . .

:Author sits at the Mighty computer and scratches her head: "Alright, what the heck would happen when she gets home? Alright, look you stupid computer. This is the first fan fic I'm writing and you're supposed to have all this good special stuff in you, well do you have any good ideas?"  
:clicks on the 'idea' button:

Computer sputters.

Author eyes the monitor nervously.

A sentence appears at the bottom of the page.

AMY USES HER SPECIAL POWERS TO STRANGLE THE TEACHER

Author thinks for a while.  
"Doable."

Amy shot a look at her teacher. He was busy nodding off at his desk at the front of the room. Looked around her to see if any one was awake. They weren't.

She quietly tip-toed her way to the front of the class. Mr. Teacher guy stirred in his sleep.

Amy advanced toward him, hands outstretched. The students were oblivious to what was going on. Her hands were merely millimeters from his neck and the pulsing jugular vein.

Closer, closer. . .

Suddenly Amy jerked upright.

"Ok, WHAT am I doing? And why am I trying to murder my science teacher?" She looks up into the sky and shakes her fist at the puzzled Author.

"You're going to pay for this!" Amy shouted angrily. And she darted from the room at top speed.

Suddenly the Author got very nervous

"Uh, computer? I don't think she ran out to use the bathroom."

She clicked the 'I'm being chased by a clone freak' button at the top of the mighty computer.

A sentence appeared at the bottom of the page.

AN OLD BUT SLIPPERY BANNANA PEEL APPEARS IN AMY'S PATH.

"Whatever." The Author said quickly as she typed it in, "Whatever will stop her from pulverizing me."

Amy saw the peel from a mile away and carefully avoided it. She was only a couple blocks from the Author's house and that Mighty spanking-new computer of hers.

She slowed down a little just incase anyone from the organization happened to drive by and notice her running at an unbelievable speed. Only, how could they see her? She was just a blur. At times being a clone wasn't that bad. Sometimes she felt powerful for being one of the 12 people on the earth that could...fly. Well, run extremely fast.

"Hey! I didn't type that! How did she do that?! Computer!"  
The Author clicked the 'How did she type her own thoughts into the computer' button.

A few sentences appeared at the bottom of the page.

"Hey, keep it to one sentence pal" the Author muttered

RELAX, IF THE CHARACTER CAN CONTROL THE STORY IN ANY WAY, THAT IS AN INDICATION THAT THE STORY IS FALLING APART. PLUS, THIS THING HAD ABSOLUTLY NO PLOT WHATSOEVER. SO I SUGGEST THAT YOU SHOULD DO SOMETHING FAST. YOU LITTLE INFERIOR HUMAN-

The computer suddenly realizes that it has said too much.

THAT IS ALL.

Amy bursts through the Author's bedroom door, brown hair wild, eyes vibrant.  
"Pretty fast for a 7th grader." The Author says weakly, cowering behind the monitor.

Amy snatches a brush off of the cluttered dresser and quickly smoothes her hair down. She clears her throat. "I don't appreciate you trying to control my life. I mean how would you feel if an unknown force was controlling your life?"

She took a step towards the Author.

The Author whimpered in fear.

"Wait, why am I whimpering in fear? This is MY story! YOU whimper in fear!"

A sentence appeared at the bottom of the monitor.

WRONG, AT THIS POINT IN THE STORY, YOU HAVE LOST ALL CONTROL.

"WHAT?!" the Author yelled. Running over to her bed and throwing the covers over her head.

Amy chuckles, "That's right."

Suddenly the Author was standing in the middle of her bedroom wearing a long salsa skirt and a peasant blouse. She picked up her stuffed bear and began doing the tango with it.

"Oh God, make it stop!" she shouted, in between turns and dips.

Amy threw her head back and laughed.

A sentence appeared at the bottom of the monitor.

MWAHAHAHA.


	2. Part 2

::The last time we heard from the doomed author, she was being tortured by a fictitious book character and a brand 'spanking' new computer…with buttons and everything! God! You should have **_seen_** this thing, I mean, yes Bill Gates is a genius and everything but this thing was. . .wow! I can't even **_describe_** the utter coolness of--. Um, anyway getting back to the story. The author was forced to do the tango with her teddy bear. When the fictitious book character, named 'Amy', decided that the author had gotten what she deserved she picked up the spanking new computer threw it out the window. The computer mysteriously disappeared from the garbage the next day. Amy went back to her world and the author never picked up a pen after that horrifying day. But the story doesn't end there . . .::

The author stared at the empty spot on her desk where her brand 'spanking' new computer once sat. She wore a mass of random rags from the bottom of her closet. Her eyelids were baggy and her breath had the stench of death. She had not fully recovered from that fateful day with the freak of nature that was Amy.

Unfortunately, her parents had grounded her for trashing her 'spanking' new computer; and when she had tried to explain that she had not, but Amy, they glanced worriedly at each other and sent her to her room. She no longer cared about her looks. A salsa skirt, a peasant blouse and hours of continuous tango dancing in front of two laughing Edgar Alan Poes can do that to a person. She sighed and slid under the covers on her bed. At least I'll never have to see her again. She thought with a twinge of joy.

A figure burst through her bedroom door and close behind it two others rushed in, breathing deeply.  
The author saw who it was and let out a loud sob.  
In the middle of her room stood Tasha, Eric, and . . .AMY!

::Scary music plays::  
::CD crashes and burns::  
"Terry!" an indistinct voice yells, "Stop playing with the stereo!"

There is a meaningful pause.

"What are you three doing here?!" the author says, clutching her blanket.

"Chill out," Amy says, "Look , I'm sorry for what I did, I 'm just so sick of people trying to control my life and I guess you just pushed me over the edge. I'm sorry, I don't know how to say it."

"No Amy, you hurt me. In addition, I- oh what am I talking about. You're not real! GET OUTTA MY ROOM!"

She leaps off her bed.

"Oh, forget this." Amy muttered, recovering from the abuse to her ears. She grabbed the author and spun her toward a red faced Eric.

"You know who he is right?"

She nods.

"Well he is in big trouble 'cause the organization is suddenly hot on his trail, trying to get information about me. They also want him to . . .turn me in. They're everywhere, it's ridiculous! Author, we really need your help 'cause it's getting out of hand. They're even-"

Eric interrupts, "My coach asked me-" his voice creaked and he looked away.

"His coach asked him some pretty personal stuff about me. And when Eric refused to answer he kicked him off the team, right there!" Amy finished.

"It's horrible!" Tasha said, finally catching her breath, "They sent threat notes to our house, Eric's been followed home from school every day this week. Now my parents are starting to wonder why Eric hasn't been eating; and you know how I hate lying to my parents. Not that any of this was okay, but we could handle it, I mean we've seen worse!"

"We weren't even prepared for what happened next."

The author struggled out of Amy's grip.

"You guys sound like a book. Look you freaks, what do you need me for? Just skip to the point." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave Amy a cold stare.

Two little kids burst through the authors bedroom door, the one gripping a can of rubber cement.

"Lusciousness!" the one screamed as they both ran up to Tasha. They pulled the brush in and out of the can in front of her face, smelling it like a couple of feins and urging her to do the same.

"Smell it! It's powerful, it's-"

The author snatches the can away and throws it out in the hall.

"Jed and Herb-" she began.

They give her 'the look'.

"S-Superman and Batman, if you don't get your addict behinds out of this room you're going to wish you would've!"

They run out.

"Sorry, my mom tried to put them on the patch . . ."

There was a meaningless silence.

"Anyway," Amy says, laying a comforting hand on a shaken up Tasha, "Last night, when Eric was walking home from a friends house, he felt like someone was watching him. So he turns around and right there were these two big guys. So he took off, but they caught up to him and, well, just look at his face."

"And . . ."

"**_And_**, it's not safe for him there, so we were wondering if he could stay here for awhile."

The author's mouth dropped open, "What about your parents, the . . .uh, what's you guy's last name?"

Tasha rolled her eyes, "Morgan."

"Yeah, the Morgans. Call me old fashioned but I thought parents mind it when their kids don't come home."

"It's all taken care of. But that's besides the point, will you do it?" Amy urged

"No."

"WHAT?!" all three yelled

"N.O. What part of that don't you understand? Ok, first, you turned my computer against me, you torture me into insanity and then you want me to help your boyfriend? Sorry wrong number, I won't. I refuse."

"Can't he stay in your room just till we get this straightened out?" Amy pleaded.

"You want your boyfriend to stay in the room of a girl you hardly know while you go off and save the world?" the author turned to Eric.

"You better be good, 'cause she sure trusts you."

Amy hesitated.

"Chill out Amy. Please Author, we need your help." Tasha begged

The author looked over Eric.

"What do I get out of it?" the author sighed.

They breathed a sigh of relief.

Their dinner was digesting as the author and Eric relaxed outside on the porch. The sun was setting and the wind was just right for the evening. And the- wait, what the HECK am I talking about?

::dramatic soap opera music plays in the background::  
What will happen to Tasha and Amy on their mission to avenge Eric??  
Will a romance strike up between the author and Eric?? (most likely)  
Will the author's brothers ever stop smell the lethal rubber cement??  
Should I ever finish this unfocused story?? (That's when you come in, do you want me to?)  
Find out all that and more on And the two shall eat.  
::music fades slowly away::


	3. Part 3

Amy and Tasha are on a world saving mission to avenge Eric

:Amy and Tasha are on a world saving mission to avenge Eric. Meanwhile at the author's house . . .:

"So, you like the chitterlings? They were made down south by my aunt Cloe."

Eric hesitated, the clump of meat lodging itself in his throat. "Are you telling me that this has been sent all the way from the South? By mail?"

The author eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, is there a problem? Eric?"

"Uh, well, other than the fact that this has been sent through the mail over a number of days. . . .I'm going to be sick."

The only sound that could be heard the next few minutes was Eric, in the bathroom, trying to regurgitate his food.

The author sighed, setting down her plate and rubbing the spot where Amy had gripped her three days ago. It still hurt, and Eric had never even made a pass at her yet. She had a feeling that he would be a saint until Amy came back.

The author had stayed home, imitating her mother's voice and calling in sick. Nobody had suspected that anything was up. Not even her delusional brothers. She didn't have any friends close enough that would stop by and check up on her.

Eric had been 'hanging out' in her room for the most part. They had played Scrabble and Monopoly, all of which Eric beat her mercilessly at. They talked about Amy and her 'perfect-ness', Eric and his former basketball career, and her new fingernail polish. Which Eric admitted, 'brings out the color in your eyes' . . . so okay, maybe one pass.

They hadn't heard from Amy or Tasha yet.

Yesterday, when they had sneaked out to the backyard when her mother was at work; Eric had rattled off a bunch of terrible things that might've happened to them by now.

"It's really pathetic when you think about it." Eric muttered as he stared up at the blue sky, "I mean, I'm going out with a preteen that could kick me into next week at any given moment."

The author rolled her eyes. "Eric get over it, the girl thinks your butt's too cute to ever kick it into next week, which is, by the way, coming up rather quickly." She remarked, swatting a bug away.

A patio door a couple of lawns away slammed shut and the author and Eric leaped up, ready to bolt inside.

They listened intently.

Nothing.

They relaxed, settling back down in their spots. "This is ridiculous," Eric commented.

Nervous laughter.

"Why are you going out with a 7th grader exactly?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

"Well, um, at first I was hesitant, I mean, she's my sister's best friend. If anything, I should be antagonizing her. Then I really got to know her. Plus, her eyes are just so--"

"Okay, that's enough."

The author lounged in a lawn chair under the large oak while Eric lay sprawled out on the grass.

"God, I hope nothing has happened to them, like Amy getting caught by the organization. Or Mrs. Chandler being tortured into telling where the other Amy's are. Wait, that couldn't happen, she doesn't know where they are. Or maybe the organization, could take Amy and somehow-"

"Oh will you shut-up about the organization! They ain't never gonna catch that girl. Gosh, why don't you just stop worrying about it and enjoy your time here because in a couple days you're going to be going back to loony land." The only sound following her rant was the sound of a breeze rustling the leaves on the oak hanging over them.

The author sighed, snapping back to the present. How had her life been reduced to eating week old pig intestines in her room with a boy who dates clones?

Eric slipped around the corner, and into the room.

"Don't worry, when I ate it for the first time I gagged for hours, and then- never mind." The author finished quickly noticing Eric's face scrunching up like piglet's skin.

There was a beat of silence.

"Hey, author? I was wondering . . ." Eric started as he walked over to the bed, where the author sat.

"Yes?" the author said, moving over to allow room for him.

"I just wanted to know, what's your . . .name?"

The author looked startled. "M-my name?" she then got angry, "Well, I've never thought about this, but Amy and Tasha trusted me to hide you and make sure you didn't walk into any darkened ally ways; and didn't even know my name!" Her nostrils flared and her cheeks turned a deep red.

"Don't do your nose like that, you look like a bull." Eric said.

Silence.

"Author? Are you going to tell me?"

"Yeah, when Amy finally discovers what a birthday is. I mean, how long can a girl stay twelve?"

"You're changing the subject."

"No I'm not." She pouted

"And what do you mean, cause she just turned 13."

"Oh, well . . .oh whatever. My name is-"

There light footsteps sounded just outside her door

Suddenly Eric sat up straight. "I hear someone!"

"Oh my gosh! Hurry, in the closet!" The author jumped up and shoved him into the closet, throwing a stray sock in after him.

The author smoothed her shirt down and gave a quick glance at the full-length mirror at the corner of the room.

A knock on the door.

"Coming!" the author called weakly as she walked toward the door and opened it.  
"Mom!" the author yelled a little too loudly.

Her mother, looking tired from a long day at work, eyed her strangely.

A low grunt came from the closet…

"Honey? Is your brother in there? God! I have been looking for that little boy all afternoon!" she said as she started towards the closed closet door.

The author's heart sped up.

"Mom, no!" she yelped. Her mother turned around "I-I…you can't go in there because, because he went to Todd's house to finish the rubber cement clock, remember?"

Her mother's hand fell away from the knob. "Oh yes, now I remember."

She walked back to the door. "Now I know why all those sticky streaks are left on the wall by the front door." She muttered as she walked out into the hall.

"Mom, those were there even before they started the clock."

The author's mother shut the door.

Eric fell out of the closet.

The author snapped out of her trance and ran over to Eric, helping him up. He shook her off, and stood over by the door.

"What's wrong Eric?"

He threw his hands up into the air, "Look, I'm sick and tired of hiding! I'm going to go crazy if I have to spend another day, locked up in this room!"

He stalked over to the window, threw it open and let the evening air blow in, ruffling the curtains. There was complete silence as they stood and brooded over the last few days and the days to come

The author walked over and flipped the light switch. The room darkened and moonlight lit the room with a dull glow, illuminating Eric's face. Which was distorted in worry lines.

"Eric,"

He looked up. The author slowly made her way to the other side of the room and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Amy and your sister will have everything worked out soon, and they'll come get you and you'll be fine. But before you go, there's something I've been wanting to do."

He raised his eyes in question.

"What I'm trying to say, is that ever since I saw you on the cover of book five I knew."

"You knew what?" Eric asked, looking into her eyes.

The author gulped. "I knew you'd love what I'm about to show you…"

"Oh my God, it's-it's beautiful." Eric whispered, afraid to spoil the moment.

"Isn't it?" the author gushed in pride.

They sneaked out into the dusk via the window, and were now standing on the edge of a deserted road, looking down into a large clay pit. The gray sludge filled about three fifths of the hole. Unmoving, and mysterious.

Small tufts of grass sprouted up around the mouth of the pit, a brilliant green. A contrast to the dull ash colored dirt.

"I found it when I was twelve, I remember storming out of the house after a big fight my mom and I had. I walked a while down this road and then stopped in the grass to rest. And I remember looking over and seeing this large hole half filled with clay. It was the coolest thing I had ever saw up until that point."

"Wow, do you know how deep it is?" Eric asked.

"Well, I've lost a few yard sticks in there if that's what you mean"

They laughed and sat down on the side of the road, away from the pit.

"Hey Eric, did Amy ever tell you about how we met?" the author asked.

"Yeah, through the computer and everything, and how you were trying to make her choke her science teacher", Eric replied.

The author winced, "Well, when you sum it up like that…" she muttered, "Well, that's where I threw the computer."

Eric gawked at her, "In the pit?"

"Yep. Hey, the thing ruined my life. It had to pay."

"Yeah, I guess. But still, throwing it into the clay pit..." Eric trailed off.

"I have no regrets."

They sat in silence in under the now midnight blue sky and both waited for the other to say something, when suddenly a beeping sound came from behind them.

Eric turned around, and suddenly a look of pure horror distorted his face. He leaped up, grabbing the author and spinning her around.

I'M BACK

The mighty spanking new computer sat in the grass, caked with clay and sputtering sparks.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!" the author screamed, pushing Eric over to it and yelling at him to kill it.

"Get off me! Ow!" He yelled, as a spark stuck his hand. They scrambled on to the road and stared back at it.

"Well, at least it can't walk over to us." Eric said, out of breath.

Suddenly, slowly, but surely, the cables and cords dug into the ground and slid the computer forward, inch by inch.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" the author screamed, grabbing handfuls of Eric's sweater and screaming in his ear.

"Will you STOP doing that?!" Eric shouted.

"I knew it could walk! It's like the undead! I should have read the manual! Oh God, Eric, let's get out of here now!"

"No! we have to destroy it now, or it'll find us later."

I HAVE UNFNISHED BUISNESS WITH YOU  
THERE WILL BE PAIN AS YOU CAN NOT IMAGINE!  
. . .ONCE I GET OVER TO YOU.

The author and Eric went into panic and tried to figure out what to do before the computer killed them and turned them into floppy disks.

"Eric, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have showed you the pit, it's all my fault your going to die a horrible death." the author said

"No, we're not going to die, it's a stupid, er . . . smart computer, we've got to figure out it's weaknesses."

The spanking new computer was halfway to the edge of the road. And getting closer.

"Hurry!" the author shouted

"Hey! I'm thinking here!"

The author looked over at the mud filled computer making it's way over to them, a menacing smiley face appeared on the screen. She wiped the tears from her eyes and prepared to except her certain doom. Just then sky opened up with a loud crack and a bolt of lightening, sheets of rain came pouring down.

"Author! I figured it out, go and get two large sticks and then on the count of three, we're going to hit it repeatedly! Go, quick!" Eric shouted

"Okay!" the author yelled over the raging sky.

So, soaked to the bone, the she dashed over to the other side of the road and retrieved two fallen branches.  
When she came back to where Eric was standing she tossed him a branch, nearly taking out his eye, and slowly they crept over to the dismembered computer.

"Okay author." They raised their branches and—"

YOU GOT MAIL

"Wait! I have to check my mail!" The author cried and threw her stick down.

"AUTHOR! Are you insane?! Pick up the freaking piece of wood and forget about the mail!"

The author just looked at him, rain dripping from her chin

"Besides, it could just be a virus."

"Oh NO!!" the author leaped away from the computer in horror (which was now trying to get away . . .slowly), picked up her branch and counted off.

"ONE . . .TWO . . .THREE!"

In less than a minute, the mighty spanking new computer was no more.

They looked down at shattered pieces, now getting drenching in rain.

"I still have no regrets." The author said, as they tossed their clubs and walked towards home.

Eric, now also soaked through and through, laughed.

"I can't believe you were going to check your mail."

When they returned home, Amy and Tasha were there, the mission had been successful. And when they saw Eric's drenched clothes and burned hand, they demanded to know what happened. Needless to say, Amy was quite pleased by the news and decided not to despise the author forever.

On their way out, Eric thanked the author for letting him stay with her and gave her a big hug. And after the fuzzy warm feeling left the room, everyone started to feel awkward and Amy said they should leave if they wanted to be home in time for breakfast.

They quietly made their way out of the house, leaving the author to her thoughts and a pile of warm dry pajamas to change into.


End file.
